Page 102 of The Unseen
But life had moved on for Alexei as it had for her. The summer after Misha’s birth, Valentina had sent Tanya and Elena to Paris to visit with Alexei’s family. She’d known Alexei would never return to England, but she hadn’t given up hope of a match for Tanya. She knew them both well enough to believe they’d be happy together, once the ghosts of the past were finally laid to rest. She’d given Alexei sufficient time to grieve his loss, and Tanya was more woman than girl by the time she turned seventeen, and more than ready for the highs and lows of her first romantic relationship.
Valentina sighed. Tanya and Alexei were expecting their first child in September. She was happy for them, truly she was, but she was glad Tanya had gone to live with Alexei in Paris aftertheir wedding because seeing them together on a regular basis would be more than she could bear. She’d barely survived the wedding and cried herself to sleep on their wedding night, tormented by the knowledge that while she tossed and turned in her lonely bed, Alexei was making love to his adoring new wife. She hadn’t seen him since, but his face was burned into her memory, his voice still so familiar when she dreamed of him, and his touch so intimate as to make her cry out with longing. She was only twenty-five, but she felt like a woman of eighty who spent her days reminiscing about her youth and reliving past glories. She knew it was time to move on but simply couldn’t find the strength to let go.
Valentina let herself out of Misha’s room and walked quietly down the corridor, so as not to wake him. She’d go downstairs and have a cup of tea in the garden. Maybe read a while. She came face-to-face with Mrs. Nemirovsky just as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The housekeeper seemed to be waiting for her.
“There’s a gentleman to see you, Mrs. Ostrov.”
“I’m not expecting anyone. Who is it?”
The housekeeper handed her a card. “Stanley Swift, Swift Publishing,” Valentina read. “I have no idea who he is.”
“Shall I ask him to leave?”
“No. I’ll see what he wants.”
Valentina walked into the parlor. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a man standing by the window, looking out, hands clasped behind his back. He looked just like Alexei had the day he walked back into her life. Except this man was dark, his curly hair neatly trimmed and his olive skin illuminated by the afternoon light streaming through the window. He turned around and Valentina’s face broke into a joyful grin.
“Stanley Swift?” she asked, laughing as she came forward to take his outstretched hands.
“I anglicized the name to suit my new role as respected publisher. What do you think?” Stanislav asked, grinning.
“I think I like it, Mr. Swift. It suits you.”
“How have you been, Valentina? How’s your boy?”
“I’m well, and Misha is a delight.”
“And the rest of your family?”
“My mother is well. She’s resting at the moment. Tanya is married and living in France, and Kolya is still at school. He’s thirteen now,” Valentina added. “And you? How’s your wife? Do you have any children?”
“Esther died two years ago, giving birth to our first child. The baby died with her. The cord had been wrapped around his neck and he suffocated during the birth.” Stanislav spoke the words calmly, but Valentina saw the depth of his loss in his eyes. He was still grieving for his family, and trying to come to terms with the injustice life sometimes dished out.
“Oh, Slava, I’m so sorry. How awful.”
“It was. I didn’t love Esther when I married her, but I had grown to care for her and her death left me paralyzed with grief. The only thing that kept me going was the desire to start my own publishing house someday. Max and I are partners in our new venture.”
“How is Max?”
“He’s married, with two children, and Sarah is expecting her first. They are happy,” Stanislav added, the desolation in his voice underlining the fact that he wasn’t.
“Would you like some tea? We can have it in the garden.”
“That would be lovely.”
Stanislav followed Valentina out into the garden and took a seat across from her. They made small talk until Mrs. Nemirovsky brought out tea and a plate of freshly baked scones, accompanied by clotted cream and strawberry jam. A small jug of milk was next to the saucer of lemon slices on the tray.
Valentina reached for the milk and added some to her tea. “I’m embracing the English ways,” she said in response to Stanislav’s look of surprise.
“You’ll never see me refuse a freshly baked scone,” he said and helped himself to some jam. “Valentina, I’m very happy to see you, but this isn’t purely a social call, although I’ve thought of coming by many times.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You were grieving for your husband and coping with motherhood on your own. It didn’t seem appropriate. Besides, I don’t think Esther would have liked it. She was jealous of you.”
“She had no reason to be.”
Stanislav blushed and looked away. “She had every reason,” he said softly.
